


I Fear No Evil For You Are With Me

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Episode Tag, Hero Worship, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-11
Updated: 2009-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke can't explain his fascination, to Gabriel or to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Fear No Evil For You Are With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was written shortly after 3.15 'Trust and Blood' aired. Sylar hadn't yet introduced himself to Luke and I bet on the wrong horse and had Luke calling him Gabriel. :)
> 
> Luke is 17.

He stands at the bedroom doorway, peering in as Gabriel sleeps. This is dangerous, and Luke’s scared, more afraid than he had been sitting in the living room of the house they’ve broken into for the night. Gabriel had left him on the sofa, claiming the double bed for himself but Luke had started at every noise, waiting for them to be caught, wanting to be awake when the bloodshed came. He is too restless, far too restless to sleep and his body seems to ring with questions that only Gabriel can answer. It’s risky and it’s stupid, and the hairs on the back of Luke’s neck stand on end to warn him that he shouldn’t, but for all that he can’t stop himself from inching quietly towards the bed.

Gabriel lies on his back, asleep, shirtless with the covers pushed down around his waist. There isn’t a single mark on his body besides a vicious, long healed scar and Luke wonders if the soldiers had had a chance to fight back at all. He leans in closer, and without thinking, reaches out to push the duvet lower.

His heart races and his breathing is hoarse. He feels compelled to touch, to sniff, to _taste_ in a way that he never has before. His hand clenches in the sheets but he does nothing but look, too afraid to face the force of his own desires.

At rest, Gabriel looks pale. His muscles are lean and strong, and even if Luke hadn’t seen what he has seen, he thinks that he could still spot the power thrumming through him. There’s dark hair, thick, on his chest, lighter on his abdomen and the tops of his thighs. When Luke looks down at his own bare chest, hairless and not so broad, he feels weaker still.

He sits on the edge of the mattress, tensing as the bed dips and squeaks with his weight but Gabriel doesn’t stir. He curves into Gabriel’s form, not touching, never touching, but leaning close enough to feel the heat from Gabriel’s skin against his cheek and he hovers there, overwhelmed. Luke doesn’t know what he wants, to bask in Gabriel’s strength or to somehow steal it from him, but suddenly, he feels choked with _need_.

Luke glances up in desperation and finds Gabriel staring down upon him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I--”

He scrambles backwards off the bed, panic churning his gut, skin flushed and burning with shame, but invisible, vice-like bonds snap around his neck. The grip closes, tighter and tighter, crushing his throat as Gabriel’s eyes narrow. Luke scrabbles at his neck but there’s nothing there to fight against, and in his panic, he scratches his own skin, long red gashes that make Gabriel shake his head and tut. Luke teeters, now, on the tips of his toes, as the force around him pulls up and up until his breath comes in a rasping gasps and, half-hanged, it’s hard to think of anything but the adrenaline that leaves him quivering impotently, unable to fight or run.

“What are you doing, Luke?”

His voice is raw with sleep and when Gabriel speaks Luke’s name, a shiver of terror and something more, something tinged with a burning, singeing heat from deep within his core, rattles through him. He tries to answer, but he’s being strangled and under the full glare of Gabriel’s scrutiny, Luke can make no sound but a pathetic, garbled noise.

“Luke,” Gabriel says again as if Luke’s attention might have wandered, as if he wasn’t pinned in place by telekinetic hands and Gabriel’s glare. His tone is calm, conversational, but the lack of anger only makes Luke’s chest burn tighter with a breath he can’t catch and a heart that pounds in overtime. His skin is slick and cold with sweat as the force around his neck grows sharper, cutting into the skin below his Adam’s apple.

Then, it relents a little and Luke’s throat aches as fresh oxygen floods his lungs. “I’m sorry,” he pants, eyes downcast as his mind reels and his body shakes.

There’s a warning squeeze to his trachea and his chin is wrenched upwards as he is forced to face Gabriel’s stare. He cocks his head and an appraising gaze drags up and down Luke’s immobile form. Luke wants to look away. He doesn’t want to see himself judged and found wanting, deemed nothing but a disappointment by Gabriel as he has by every other person in his life. But, though his muscles tremble, straining against the bonds that hold him, he cannot move at all.

“I don’t know,” he says. Gabriel’s eyes snap to his face, boring into him, seeing behind the masks Luke wears and Luke feels strangely naked, vulnerable and exposed.

“I don’t know what I was doing,” he babbles but he knows the answer isn’t good enough as the force at his neck slides tighter. And Luke has always been good at lying, but to lie, he needs to know the truth that he’s trying to conceal and the truth _is_ that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he is drawn to Gabriel like this. “I just wanted… I just wanted to be nearer…”

“Nearer?” Gabriel’s voice is amused and Luke blushes because he knows how desperate he sounds.

And then the telekinetic hold vanishes altogether and Luke’s body sags without it. His mind spins and he’s unbalanced, disoriented. He falls forward, arms flung out to brace himself against the bed because there’s nothing else there to catch him. His face burns as he feels the heat of Gabriel’s skin against his cheek, so close but not touching; never touching,

“And now that you’re _nearer_, Luke, what are you going to do?”

Gabriel stares at him curiously, one eyebrow raised and Luke knows that this is a challenge, a test of sorts. His chest feels tight and it’s hard to breathe once more but this time, there is no pressure on his neck, no invisible hands forcing the air from his body and the dread he feels, the fear that he might fail, seems more terrifying to Luke than begging for his life had been.

It’s wrong, so wrong, but he reaches out and with a skittish hand, caresses Gabriel’s thigh. He feels that dark, coarse hair against his palm and the warmth of his flesh beneath his hand, and Luke thinks it can’t be right that Gabriel should feel so _alive_ when all he does is kill. He traces the hem of Gabriel’s boxers, cotton soft and worn and so familiarly like the underwear he wears himself.

Is this what he came here for? He doesn’t know but he doesn’t care because the touch hasn’t sated his need, not at all, and he aches for more. Luke’s hand surges forwards, pressing to the crux of Gabriel’s thighs before fear can still his movements. He feels Gabriel shift beneath him, hips lilting up as Luke’s fingers curl and what he holds begins to harden.

With both hands now, bolder, Luke clutches at the fabric and pulls, closing his eyes as Gabriel acquiesces, letting him pull his boxers down and away. And then, after a moment’s reprieve and silence, Luke looks again and Gabriel is bare before him, cock half-hard. He swallows loudly and he’s painfully aware of how ragged his own breathing sounds but the mocking laugh he half expects doesn’t come. When Luke curls his hand around him, his breath stuttering at the weight and heat of him, Gabriel sighs softly.

“Nearer,” Gabriel whispers and as if compelled, but with no force acting on him but his own desire to prove himself, Luke bows his head.

His fingers knead and Gabriel lengthens. He strokes and cups and maps a cock and balls that aren’t his own, and Luke thinks that he should feel ashamed to touch another man like this, but Gabriel isn’t just some guy and when Luke realises, stomach clenching, that he is hard too, within his jeans, he knows that this is how it was always meant to be.

Luke’s lips press to Gabriel’s cock, kisses firm and flesh unyielding. He tastes saltier than Luke would have imagined and his musk is rich, masculine in a way that Luke thinks he himself could never hope to be. He’s never done this before or had it done to him, and all Luke has to guide him are the pornos that he’s seen and the racing, throbbing blood in his own crotch that’s urging him to go further, to take more, to have what he wants so desperately.

In his mouth, Gabriel is thick. So thick, that it hurts to stretch his lips around him and Luke’s breath seems trapped at the back of his throat unable to escape around the girth that stops his lips. Gabriel’s fingers rake through his hair, his real fingers, rough against Luke’s scalp where his nails drag against his skin. Luke arches into it, matching the dip and rise of his head to the steady stroke of Gabriel’s hand. But it’s too much, too quick and too deep, and he gags, spit spilling from his mouth and smearing his chin, dribbling down to wet Gabriel’s groin.

Luke doesn’t want to pull away but his eyes are watering and he’s snivelling, choked with rage and mortification at his own shortcomings. He knows it won’t be long before the need to breathe becomes too great and he is forced to retreat in shame. But when his lips grow slack and he whines his defeat low in his throat, Gabriel’s fingers wind in his hair and hold him down.

He coughs. He splutters. Panic erupts inside him, but Gabriel doesn’t seem care. He clenches his hand ruthlessly and _tugs_, yanking Luke’s head up and down, back and forth, ever quicker and more roughly than Luke could have managed on his own. Tears stream down his face and his nose is running too, because it hurts, really hurts, to be used like this. There’s a deep bruising ache in his jaw and neck, and a raw scrape down his throat. Luke has to swallow and keep swallowing, panting and trying to keep his breathing even to stop himself from suffocating

Gabriel’s hips thrust off the bed and Luke’s nose grinds painfully to his crotch, skin scratched by the thick and wiry hair there and all that Luke can think is _Please don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop_.

Instead of using his hands on Gabriel’s hips to push him away, Luke clutches to him frantically, pulling him up and urging him on. Gabriel groans then, and he keeps Luke so tight and close that Luke’s vision begins to blacken. Gabriel’s body tenses, and within Luke’s throat, his dick pulses. There’s a motionless pause and then Luke’s mouth is overflowing, with come and spit and cock, tears and snot pouring down and mixing, wet, hot and sticky on his face.

A moment longer, silently screaming for air, pushing back and away as best he can the bile that threatens to rise as semen, thick and bitter, gurgles on his tongue, and then Gabriel relaxes. His hips fall back and his cock, spent, slips free from Luke’s lax lips. The hand in his hair is stroking once more, inadvertently soothing as Luke collapses down, his forehead, slick with sweat, pressed to Gabriel’s taut stomach. His chest heaves and every breath burns his tender windpipe. Luke clings to the pain in victory and pride. Come drips from his mouth and splatters messily on Gabriel’s skin below.

Telekinetic hands at his hips and real, flesh and blood ones at his shoulders drag him up.

Hovering over Gabriel on his hands and knees, Luke doesn’t know what to say so he says nothing, still panting as Gabriel studies his face. One wide thumb slides through the wetness on his cheek and chin, and presses against his mouth. Luke parts his lips to it, and, just as he had to Gabriel’s dick, he sucks and swallows, using his teeth to gently scrape the stickiness from Gabriel’s skin. With a lecherous pop, his thumb slides from Luke’s swollen mouth and it presses, damp, to the hinge of Luke’s jaw as Gabriel cups his neck.

He guides Luke down and kisses him softly, one tender press of lips between Luke’s eyes.

“Good boy,” Gabriel murmurs against Luke’s skin and that’s when Luke comes.

It’s sudden and unexpected and Luke has almost forgotten how hard he is, how hard he had been since his first tentative steps inside this room. Pleasure wracks his body and just as quickly, embarrassment curls through him on its heels. He shakes and the invisible hold is all that keeps him up. In his ear, he can feel Gabriel chuckling, low and soft.

“Good boy,” he whispers again, touching his fingers to Luke’s burning cheeks as aftershocks shudder through him and Gabriel reaches down to delicately trace the dampness spreading against Luke’s fly.

And Luke laughs too, silently at first and then more manic as euphoria overcomes him. That ghostly touch begins to falter and Luke wants nothing more than to let himself fall forward against Gabriel’s stronger, broader chest.

Gabriel smiles at him serenely and Luke thinks, for a moment, that what he wants might be allowed, that he could press himself to the length of Gabriel’s body, fold himself around him with nothing between skin and skin. Then, the world lurches and the wind is knocked from him. With a sickening crunch and a _crack_ that snaps through him, he is flung bodily through the air and crumples against the opposite wall.

Luke holds his head in his hands, and there’s blood, now, on his skin too, from his nose and lips, and it mixes with the sweat and the come and the snot, salty and slick. His tongue darts out. It’s raw, metallic, bitter and he concentrates on the taste that makes him want to hurl to distract himself from the shattering pain that threatens to consume him.

“Sneak up on me again while I’m sleeping and I’ll kill you.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke grunts, voice steady, teeth gritted to the possibility of further punishment.

Gabriel laughs again, at that, and Luke draws his knees to his chest, turning his face away from the low, rumbling chuckle that fills the room. He starts to crawl, to drag his broken body from the room when the door slams shut. A pillow careens towards him and slaps against the wall, falling down beside him. Gabriel has rolled over now, the blankets tight around him and all Luke can see is dark, wild hair, peeking out from above a disconcertingly floral comforter. He gathers the pillow to his chest and curls up on the threshold.

Shivering and shaking, with the rough scratch of the carpet below him, Luke smiles as he tries to sleep. Gabriel won’t leave him behind.


End file.
